


A cool story about me and Alex (told by John)

by Chimney_on_the_roof



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV John Laurens, Painting, Sick Character, Unreliable Narrator, this isn't cliché for once, uhhhh what else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:34:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24526963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chimney_on_the_roof/pseuds/Chimney_on_the_roof
Summary: Hi, I’m John Laurens, the narrator of this story. I didn’t choose to be the narrator, I’d rather be just a simple character in this story. Alas. As the narrator, I know what’s going to happen. Being the narrator is not an easy job. It gives you new perspectives. For example, I know when something significant to the plot is going to happen. If I were simply a character, I wouldn’t even know there was a plot at all. Apparently our lives are stories. And I was chosen to be the narrator. So I try my best.
Relationships: (background and pre-slash (the laf and herc relationship)), Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette/Hercules Mulligan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter already has a lot of words, wow

It’s been a while. The last time was… a month ago? I know I’ll see Alex soon, but that knowledge doesn’t make the waiting more bearable. Sorry, I should be talking about the plot of this story. Let me tell you something about myself first.

Hi, I’m John Laurens, the narrator of this story. I didn’t choose to be the narrator, I’d rather be just a simple character in this story. Alas. As the narrator, I know what’s going to happen. Being the narrator is not an easy job. It gives you new perspectives. For example, I know when something significant to the plot is going to happen. If I were simply a character, I wouldn’t even know there was a plot at all. Apparently our lives are stories. And I was chosen to be the narrator. So I try my best.

It started when I left for France. I asked my boss if he could send Alex to France since he’s more experienced, but no, I was best for the job. So I went. And I immediately knew something big was going to happen back in America, and I made a choice. I was going to write it all down, which was not easy. That was about a month ago. I tried writing, but the words wouldn’t come to me. I had no idea what to write, because I knew what was happening – Alex and Lafayette were talking about me. Alex is going to propose. Discovering that came as a shock, and I didn’t believe it until Lafayette started video calling me, asking questions about going out with Alex and everything. That kind of confirmed it. I was disappointed that the proposal wouldn’t come as a surprise.

But because I wasn’t there at the moment Lafayette and Alex discussed it, I couldn’t write down exactly what was happening. I only knew that what they were talking about was significant to the plot. Great. What’s the use of a narrator when he isn’t even there to describe the story? Anyway. I’m writing now, because something happened. Another… thing. You know I’m France. So, I walked by a store which sold rings. A jeweller. And at the same time Eliza called me. Eliza is Alex’s ex so I didn’t know why she called me. Things between the two are still awkward, but they’re trying to be friends again.

“Hey John,” she said. Is it really necessary that I write the entire conversation down? I don’t even remember all of it. Oh, I don’t have to tell you everything exactly as it happened. That’s great, actually. I’m the narrator, after all.

“Hey,” I said. Eliza might have told me that it was her calling. She then asked me how I was, which was kind of strange because we’re not exactly good friends. I’m not saying that we’re enemies or something, it’s just that we never really talk, you know. I told her I was doing fine. I wondered if it would be strange to tell her that I missed Alex. Instead, I told her I missed home. She understood. Even though I couldn’t see her, I knew Alex was there with her.

Alex had asked Eliza to call me to check up on me, because he missed my voice and he called me every moment he was free already. He thought it would be suspicious if he called me more often than usual. That realisation made me chuckle and Eliza asked why I laughed. I told her I saw something on the street that made me laugh.

I can’t really remember the rest of the conversation. I think we talked about the stuff I do here in France and about Eliza’s work and about our friends. The fact that I was walking past a jeweller was pure coincidental, but I thought it’s funny to mention it. If I were an unknowing character, I would’ve considered buying a ring for Alex to propose. Come to think of it, wouldn’t it be funny to do that anyway? Just imagine, right before Alex pops the question I pull out a ring to ask him to marry me. All of our friends know Alex is going to propose, but they don’t know I’m going to propose as well. Besides, it would be better if I were the one to propose, because I don’t know if I can fake a surprised reaction.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m over the moon that Alex is going to propose! I can’t wait to see him again. One week, and then I’m flying back to America.

Let’s make a time jump, because my work in France is quite boring and nothing worth mentioning happened, except that I bought a ring for Alex.

During my flight to America, Alex is trying to contain his impatience and excitement. Half an hour before my plane lands, he, Lafayette and Hercules arrive at the airport to welcome me. I’m annoyed that I don’t know exactly what’s happening.

It’s not hard to find my friends at the airport, because I know where they are. I’m greeted enthusiastically with a hug from Alex. His hair is soft and smells like his shampoo. He smells like home.

“I missed you,” he says with his head buried in my neck. I chuckle.

“Really? I didn’t know.” Alex pulls away to look at me with a smile playing on his lips. Then he moves his hands to my neck and kisses me.

Did you know that it’s quite awkward that I’m fully aware of Lafayette and Hercules watching us? I have no doubt Alex is completely oblivious, but I, the all-knowing narrator, know about their fond expressions without having to open my eyes. I try to focus on the kiss, which is hard, because what Lafayette whispers in Hercules’ ear is important.

“I don’t understand why Alex doesn’t just propose right away. They’ve been apart for over a month and Alex wants to wait another month before proposing?” Now I know when he’ll propose. Nice.

Hercules pushes Lafayette away as Alex and I pull away from the kiss. Suddenly, it isn’t so hard to focus on Alex’s dreamy expression. He’s examining my features and being in love with me. I’m glad I’m the one he’s in love with, because I have no desire to know his fantasies about anyone else. Lafayette is going to interrupt his thoughts.

“Alright lovebirds, let’s take John home,” Lafayette says, interrupting Alex’s thoughts. Told you.

Alex keeps an arm around my waist as we walk to Hercules’ car, while Lafayette and Hercules carry my bags. It feels safe to have Alex so close to me. I plant a kiss on his forehead. “I missed you too,” I say. He smiles. Behind us, Lafayette watches us with a knowing smile.

On our way home, Alex and I are still inseparable. I have to admit it’s not hard to be separated in a car, but with the other two you never know. I lean my head on Alex’s shoulder because I’m tired and he always strokes my hair when I do that. I have missed him.

Just to tease Alex, I ask him why Lafayette and Hercules keep looking at us like that. Alex shoots Hercules a warning glare which I can’t see because my eyes are closed, and he says, “I think they’ve missed you too.” He tries to hide the awkwardness. With a chuckle he adds, “And I might have annoyed them with my clinginess since you weren’t there to cling to.”

Here’s the thing. I know these moments are going to happen beforehand, but being able to actually be in them makes it more special. Especially since I don’t know what words will be said, what facial expressions will be made, and what the general atmosphere of the scene is. Yes, I’ve become aware that there are scenes. I must admit that I love the moments between, or behind, the scenes. Those moments are unexpected, and even though they’re irrelevant to the story, I enjoy them. Maybe not all of them, for example when going to the toilet, but I hope you get what I mean.

We arrive at Alex’s and my apartment. I have to carry my bags myself because Lafayette and Hercules have a welcome back present in the car that they have to carry. I’m not supposed to know it’s a present for me. Luckily Alex helps me with my heavy bags, and luckily there’s a lift in the apartment complex. The narrator within me doesn’t tell me this is an important moment, so of course I will describe every detail of it. Just because I can and love to.

Alex and I are in the lift together. We lower the bags to the ground with a sigh. Alex presses the button to the fifth floor. We look at each other and the door closes.

“It’s just us now,” Alex says with a mischievous smile. I grin back at him.

“Yes, I suppose it is.” The lift starts moving upward.

Alex wiggles his eyebrows and I giggle. See, that almost rhymes. Hey, I can have fun as the narrator of this! Alex steps over the bag on the ground towards me, neither of us breaking eye contact.

“You do realise how cliché this is, right?” I say, shaking my head, but still smiling. Alex nods and moves even closer.

“What if I kissed you,” Alex interrupts himself to give me a peck on the lips, “and right when the lift doors open,” he gives me another kiss, “our neighbour is there waiting for the lift?” he gives me another kiss, a deeper one. I put my hands around his waist, and he puts his on the back of my head.

Our neighbour is an old man who is kind of homophobic. He has his concerns about us living together, although we’ve never told or showed him we’re dating. He suspects it, though. And he isn’t too fond with that idea. We know that he doesn’t like it, because one time Alex and I were waiting for the lift when our neighbour arrived as well and he promptly decided to take the stairs. Mind you, he’s an old man who never takes the stairs. Alex and I frowned at each other and when our neighbour was around the corner, we burst out in laughter. This is just one example of his dislike towards us. We don’t mind it, as long as it doesn’t go too far.

I think that if our neighbour is indeed there when the lift doors open, revealing Alex and me kissing, I would know. I deepen the kiss when the lift comes to a halt. The doors open. We break apart and see that there’s no one there, before breaking out in giggles. We grab the bags off the floor and make our way to our apartment.

Alex puts down the bag he’s holding to reach into his pocket for the key. With the metallic jingling of several keys clinking into each other, he turns the key in the lock and the door opens. Alex gets the key out of the lock and picks up the bag again. I follow him into our apartment and close the door behind me, leaving it unlocked for Lafayette and Hercules. I wonder what would happen if I lock it. In an impulse, I lock the door, just to see what would happen. Maybe the story is meant to go this way, so I unlock the door again. Wouldn’t that be too obvious? It’s not logical to lock the door, so I should lock it. I’m sorry if you can’t entirely follow my thought process, it’s hard to put into words. I lock the door again. Alex has put my bag on the bed to unpack, and comes back into the hall, wondering what I’m doing. I laugh and shake my head, telling him it’s nothing.

“Okay,” he says with a fond smile. Then he looks at the door. “Did you lock the door?”

I look at the door, not because I don’t know I’ve locked the door, but because that’s what I’m supposed to do. “Yeah,” I say, and walk past him to our bedroom to put this bag down as well. It’s quite heavy and the handle cuts into my hand. Alex follows me.

“Why? You know Hercules and Lafayette are coming too, right?”

I nod and turn to face him, trying to simultaneously take my shoes off after having put down my bag. He’s looking at me with a curious expression. “No reason,” I say. “Just… don’t open the door yet.”

Alex frowns, but says, “Okay.”

It’s good to be home again. It smells like Alex now that I haven’t been here to add my smell. Sorry, that sounds gross. It smells like home. And I’m hungry.

Before we start unpacking my bags, and I already know that Alex will accidently find my souvenir for him, I head over to the fridge to check if we have some decent food. Knowing Alex, we do, and I open the fridge to discover I’m right. There’s a plate covered in tinfoil, which unmistakably contains left over pancakes. Just then there’s a knock at the door, and I know that once Lafayette and Hercules come in, they have a gift – I don’t know what it is yet – for me and I’m really too hungry to be receiving gifts. Alex is already on his way to open the door. I hear the clanking of keys and the door being opened, while I put the plate with pancakes on the counter.

“Why’s the door locked?” I hear Lafayette’s voice from the hallway. I can practically hear Alex shrug as he says, “Don’t know, ask John.”

If I’m going to try to be a good narrator, I should have followed Alex to the door so I can see the persons I’m writing about. I’m not sure yet if I’m going to try to be a good narrator. I’ve already kind of failed, because I’m describing all these insignificant things. I’m not sorry.

The removing of the tinfoil makes a lot of noise so I can’t hear the rest of the conversation, but I know they’re talking – whispering – about surprising me with the present. How do I let them know I want to eat before receiving whatever they have for me, without revealing that I know about the present?

“Alex?” I call. He rushes into the kitchen with a questioning look.

“Is it okay if eat these pancakes?” I point at the three half-frozen pancakes on the now uncovered plate.

“Uh, sure, but don’t you want to wait for dinner? We-”

“I’m hungry,” I interrupt him. Alex shrugs. “Alright. You want to eat in the living room? Laf and Herc are here now.”

“Nah, I’m good.”

“Okay. Bon appetit!” he says with a teasing smile, before leaving the kitchen. I open the microwave to put the plate in it, but on my way to the microwave I step into water or something, leaving a wet spot on the bottom of my sock. “Fuck,” I mutter. Oops, should I say something else for the sake of younger readers? “Fork,” I mutter. I put the pancakes in the microwave and set it on a minute. I have no idea if that’s long enough or perhaps too long, but I’ll see. While waiting for the pancakes to be warmed, I get the syrup, sugar and jam from one of the cupboards above the counter. I put them on the kitchen table. First the syrup and the jam, then the sugar. Very interesting, I know. Next, I get a fork and a knife from a drawer and put those on the table as well. Then I get another plate from a different cupboard. After all that, I make a ball of the tinfoil and throw it into the trash can.

A few seconds later the microwave beeps. I open it and check with my hand if the pancakes are warm enough. I think they are, but by the time I’ve finished eating the second pancake, the third one will have cooled down. I don’t care and put the plate with pancakes on the kitchen table with the rest and close the microwave.

I sit down and put one pancake on my plate. I spread some syrup on it and roll the pancake up. This must be quite boring to read, even I’m getting bored writing this. Let’s make another time jump, a small one.

After I’ve finished my pancakes and put the plates and cutlery in the dishwasher, I enter the living room. Suddenly I know what the present is, and I wonder why it’s put in such a huge box. I guess that’s just for fun.

Maybe I shouldn’t have told you what this story was going to be about yet. Oops. It’s useful for me to know what’s going to happen, so I can foreshadow or leave certain parts out. Hmm. The damage has already been done. Maybe this story isn’t so much about the proposal, but more about me trying to be a narrator – and failing – and having fun with this …gift? I don’t know if the role of narrator is really a gift. It is certainly a new experience. I’ll tell you what the gift is, so you can laugh along with me as my friends try to be mysterious. It’s a gift card or something like that, maybe plane tickets, to the place where Alex is going to propose. It’s somewhere in America, on a beach. I guess there is a surprise element after all.

As I sit down on the couch next to Alex, my friends shoot me glances I would’ve missed if I didn’t know about- Yeah, you know. My friends are having a boring conversation about something – I’m not really paying attention. I notice that I’m using those hyphens a lot suddenly. I like hyphens! I rest my head on Alex’s shoulder and he starts playing with my hair, while also making wild gestures with his other hand while he’s talking. I’m tired.

I notice I’m falling asleep. It’s strange that I’m noticing, but I’m fully aware of it. That must me be my inner narrator. Don’t mention the fact that I’m writing this without physically writing, okay? I’m not sure how this works either.

When I close my eyes, Hercules nudges Lafayette, and they all look at me. How do I know this? Whatever. Lafayette reaches for the box behind his armchair. He puts it on his lap and Alex shakes me a little to wake me up. I sleepily lift my head and look at him. “What?”

He’s watching me with a slight smile. “I’m happy you’re home,” he tells me. I wonder when he’ll get to the point.

“So are we,” Lafayette says, and I don’t even try to be surprised when I see the box he’s holding. “So we, Hercules, Alex and me, got you a welcome back present!” he finishes with a proud smile.

I think I should at least show them I appreciate the gesture, so I smile. “That’s… nice,” I say. I can always blame my weird reactions on being tired. Hercules hands me the box. It is rather big for just two tickets, and heavy. I frown and look at the others. “Why is it so heavy?” I ask before I can stop myself.

“Open it!” Alex says with a nudge.

I open the box and inside it are two plane tickets on top of two off-white pillows. That’s genuinely nice. ‘Yorktown’, the tickets say. I suddenly know there’s something special about Yorktown, but I can’t put my finger on it.

“Wow!” I say with honest excitement. “Thanks!”

The plot continues a few days from now, or maybe just one day – anyway, I’m supposed to make a time jump now. Let’s do the opposite.

I check the date of the flight, just to be sure. “Aw, it’s still more than a month away,” I say with a pout.

“You just got home!” Alex said, giving me a shove. I giggle, and Alex grins.

“Why the pillows though?” I ask Lafayette and Hercules.

Hercules answers with a shrug with one shoulder and a smile, “It looks fancy.” Lafayette nods in agreement. “Besides,” he says, “Those inns don’t always have the best pillows.”

“Inns?” I inquire. Now it’s Alex who nods excitedly.

“Yes! We’re staying in an inn! I’ve never been to an inn, but the pictures look nice.” I chuckle at the probably unintentional rhyming.

“I look forward to it. Since there’s two tickets, can I choose who I go with?” Alex raises his eyebrows, but I continue, trying to hold back a smile. “This could be a good bonding activity for me and my father…” Alex scoffs.

“Your father? Yeah, right.”

I shrug contemplative. “Well, you know… It can’t be too bad, now can it? What could go wrong? Imagine me and my father happily eating breakfast together, taking a walk on the beach, visiting some museums, talking about deep stuff…” Is it needless to say that this is sarcasm? Probably.

“There’s only one bed…” Alex says, half playing along.

I gasp. “ _There’s only one bed!_ ” Alex chuckles, and I can’t hold back my own smile anymore either.

Lafayette and Hercules watch us with faces that say ‘this isn’t even funny but it’s nice to see these dorks have fun’. So, practically, they’re rolling their eyes.

“What pizza do you guys want?” Hercules asks, changing the subject. I put the box on the ground in front of the couch and lean back against Alex. “I’m not hungry,” I say, feeling the exhaustion returning.

“Uh, duh, you just had three pancakes,” Alex says with a chuckle. I smile. I wish I could fall asleep right here and be frozen in this moment with Alex. Shit, I shouldn’t make these kinds of wishes – I’m the narrator after all, who knows what could happen… Alex starts playing with my hair again and I stare into the room with heavy eyelids.

“I’d like a pizza margherita,” Alex tells Hercules. Apparently Lafayette has already told Hercules his order. Hercules walks out of the room and I can hear him calling some pizza thing. A pizza business? Café? Restaurant?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello I wanted to write it all out and then put it on ao3 in one go, but I was like 'nah, let's throw this chapter onto the internet already'. I'm already working on the second chapter though :)  
> (Why does an American guy use British spelling? Shhh)


	2. Wow there are multiple chapters?

Hey look, it’s the second chapter. I fell asleep and I wasn’t aware of it because nothing important to the plot was happening. I keep talking about things that are and things that aren’t important to the plot, don’t I? What if I don’t tell you when the thing I’m describing is important or not? That might be cool.

It’s the next day and I’m sitting at the kitchen table with an empty mug. I haven’t started writing right away when I woke up because I was far too tired and I needed coffee. Now that I’ve had my coffee, I might as well describe Alex in my very not-so-objective way. He’s beautiful, funny, intelligent, understanding, uh what else? I’ll stop describing him. Wasn’t that fun?

It’s a Saturday by the way. Yeah, what else can I describe? I don’t think our kitchen is very interesting to describe, and I doubt I even can. I’m not as good with words as Alex is, though I try. He says I have to develop my own writing style (because no one can write as eloquently as him), so this is my attempt. This is _definitely_ different than Alex’s writing.

There’s one thing I want to say about our kitchen. It has orange tiles on the walls. This was Alex’s apartment long before I moved in here with him, and he says it’s always been this way. The tiles have always disgusted me. When I moved in with Alex, I asked him if we could at least replace those tiles, and he was fine with it, but we’ve never actually made plans to replace them. The orange tiles still disgust me.

My favourite colour combination is orange and pink, so as long as we have something pink in the kitchen I don’t mind all that much, but the problem is, we never have. This is a conversation Alex and I regularly have, and we never reach a conclusion. We both agree that the tiles need to be replaced, but we never actually do. I just hope we don’t grow accustomed to it.

So, this was my rant about the disgustingly orange tiles in the kitchen. Alex walks in in his pyjamas. I woke up before him and I’ve kind of been staring at those tiles for a while.

“Good morning,” Alex says. His hair is a mess and I love it. I know my hair isn’t very… how do I say that? My hair’s messy too. I guess I’m still too tired to say the words I want to say.

“Good morning,” I say. Alex starts the coffee machine and spins around to face me, leaning against the counter.

“Do you have plans for today?”

I shrug. “Not really. I still need to unpack my bags and there’s some laundry to be done, and that’s it. Why?”

“Just wondering,” he mumbles, turning back around to get a mug from one of the cupboards, and placing it under the coffee machine. Well, not really under the coffee machine, but under that thing where the coffee leaves the machine to hopefully be poured into the mug. I watch Alex as he presses a button, after which the coffee leaves the machine to be poured into the mug. He reaches up again to get the sugar, and he puts two spoonsful of sugar into the mug while the coffee is still pouring in. Alex puts the sugar away and fetches a coffee spoon from one of the drawers and puts it in his mug. He waits till the machine is done, and he presses the power button to turn the machine off. Then he gets his mug from under the still dripping thing where the coffee leaves the machine to hopefully be poured into a mug and sits down opposite me at the kitchen table. He stirs his coffee and takes a sip.

That’s Alex’s coffee making routine, in case you were wondering, which I doubt. He’s now sitting in front of me, while I still glare at the orange tiles. I’m considering starting a conversation about it again, but Alex is ahead of me.

“Those tiles aren’t going to replace themselves,” he says.

“I know,” I say, “That’s why I’m telepathically yelling at them to disappear.” Alex smiles and takes another sip of his coffee.

“I’ll help you unpack your bags,” Alex says after a few sips.

“I kind of already assumed you would.”

For the record, this isn’t an awkward conversation, it’s just how me and Alex talk. Domestic stuff, you know. I’m sitting here in silence with an empty coffee mug in front of me, but it’s a comfortable silence. A silence that means ‘I should get up and take this mug to the dishwasher, but I have all day so I could as well stay here for a few minutes longer’.

“There’s something I want to paint, but it doesn’t have to be today,” I say. Alex looks at me with a genuine interest. “I’ve been reading this book when I was in France. A Dutch book, because I have to keep up with my languages.”

Alex’s lip twitches into a small smile. I know there’s not much logic behind it, but it’s my choice in what language I read my books. “It was just so… inspiring.” I sigh. “I can already see the painting in front of me. There’s a pink and orange fire and a light and dark green forest…”

I rest my chin on my folded hands and stare at the orange tiles. They are a shade too dark for what I have in mind. I tell Alex more about the book, and recite a poem quoted in the book. I could tell you exactly what I’m saying to Alex, but I don’t think it’s really important. _I’m_ the narrator, I choose what I tell you and what not.

I notice Alex looking at me with a fond smile. “I love it when you get passionate about books and poems,” he says. “Go, paint your painting!”

I get up and put my mug on the counter. The dishwasher is still full of dishes that have been cleaned overnight. “Laundry and unpacking first,” I say with a sigh. “And the dishwasher, and you need to put on some proper clothes.”

Alex nods obediently and takes the last sip of his coffee, places his mug on the counter and follows me to the bedroom, where I plop down on the bed. I let my thoughts wander to my role as narrator.

I can’t stop imagining how horrible it would’ve been if I were the narrator of someone else’s proposal. The thoughts I’d have to hear… Or worse, what if Lafayette or Hercules had been our narrator? That’s just embarrassing.

“What are you thinking of?” Alex asks while he buttons his shirt. How do I explain to him I’m a narrator? I’m thinking about things I’m not supposed to know. “About our trip to Yorktown,” I say. Alex smiles. He opens the curtains and I put one of the bags on the bed. Alex must’ve put them on the ground last night.

I start unpacking the bag which I know contains the ring I bought for him. That means Alex is going to unpack the bag with my souvenir for him. I already told you about this, didn’t I? Before Alex starts unpacking the other bag, he goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth. In all the years I’ve known Alex he’s always brushed his teeth before breakfast, and I still don’t understand why he does it. “So I won’t forget,” he told me one time, but that’s nonsense. That guy never forgets anything. That may be an overstatement, but still. Why am I telling you about Alex’s toothbrushing habits?

While he’s in the bathroom, I quickly look around for a place to hide the ring. I place it on top of the wardrobe, behind an old shoebox. Alex can’t reach that high. There’s a lot of dust on there, and some of it sticks to my hand, which I wipe on my pants and then I try to wipe the light grey streak away with my other hand. I fail and Alex walks back into the room, with clean teeth. He doesn’t notice my struggle with dust. Alex puts on some music and we unpack the bags.

“What’s this?” Alex asks after a while – I’m not going to describe how we unpack the bags – holding up the souvenir. It’s wrapped in dark blue wrapping paper.

“It’s for you,” I say.

“Really?”

“Yup. A souvenir.”

Alex eagerly tears the paper and a laugh escapes his mouth. “A mini Eiffel Tower,” he deadpans.

I nod. We both look at the small version of the tower in Alex’s hand. “Cool,” Alex says after a moment, and he puts it on his nightstand. “Cliché, but cool,” he says, shooting me a smile. I knew this moment would occur, but I don’t know why it’s important to the plot. We’ll see.

A while later, after we’ve done all the chores and had a proper breakfast, I gather my panting supplies. I put them on the table next to the window in the living room. Alex usually uses this table as his desk, but I also use it for drawing and painting. Alex’s laptop is on the ground next to the table, so I put it, along with other important looking papers scattered on the table, on the coffee table to protect it from danger in the form of paint. I first take a blank piece of paper to put the idea in my head on paper as a sketch. With coloured pencils I try to capture my idea on paper as colourful as possible.

Alex stands by my side for a short while, watching me sketch. Then he says, “I’m going grocery shopping.”

“Okay.”

Then Alex leaves to buy an engagement ring, but that’s not what he tells me, of course.

When I’m almost certain that I can paint what I want using the sketch, I start mixing the colours, beginning with pink. On the left half of the rectangle canvas I paint big, pink flames. Then I mix red and yellow together to paint orange flames intertwining with the pink ones. The way I’ve described it makes it seem like I did it in two seconds, but it actually took longer. The mixing took a while before I finally got the right colour, and the right amount of it. Anyway. I mix blue and yellow together to paint the beginnings of tree trunks on the right side of the canvas.

I totally forgot to tell you why I paint at this table in the living room. There are a few reasons. This table is next to a window, and paint has a strong smell, so painting next to a window gives the smell the ability to escape. It doesn’t always work because most of the time you can still smell the paint three days after, but that’s better having to sleep in that smell for two weeks. I totally don’t speak from experience.

Another reason is that the light is good. It’s not the yellow light from a lamp, but natural light.

Thirdly, (wow, am I practising my essay writing skills here?) I don’t like listening to music when I paint, unless I’m painting something inspired by a certain song, but I don’t like the silence either. So I’m either in the living room because Alex is here too, or because I can listen to the wind and birds – and traffic – through the open window.

Lastly, and most importantly, this table is the only good surface for painting and drawing. The kitchen table isn’t big enough for all the art supplies, the coffee table is too low, and we don’t have any other things with flat surfaces that count as tables.

While I was thinking about these things, I’ve been painting trees. It’s hard to get the right green shade and I can’t make a too dark shade because the black paint ran out. I have to be careful that the darkest shade of green I use isn’t too turquoise. Although, it doesn’t really matter if it’s turquoise. It matches with the pastel-like colours I used for the sky. The sky is pastel blue with some pastel pink stripes. Where the flames on the left side reach the top of the canvas, there’s a light green, pastel blue and yellowish background. The ground between the trees is the most colourful. It’s green, yellow, orange, pink, and red. I’ve put some red streaks on the left side as well. The ground and the trunks are quite abstract, which I was aiming for. The leaves are not very realistic, at all, but recognisable as leaves of trees. And the sky… it’s like when you look at the real sky and can’t believe it’s real. The sky I’ve painted isn’t real, but it looks like a sky I’ve seen in real life.

I look at the clock and see I’ve been painting for two hours. I take a few steps back to look at the painting from a distance, like I’ve done a few times before. I smile because I like it. Is that selfish to say? I don’t think so. I’m proud of what I’ve created. It doesn’t look exactly like I imagined, but it doesn’t have to.

By the way, when I was painting, Alex was helped by Peggy, Eliza’s sister, to pick out a ring for me. That’s an awful lot of commas. I don’t know what the ring looks like. Alex and Peggy didn’t agree on the design, but Alex said he knew me better than she does and Peggy reluctantly agreed. So Alex has a ring now. And I guess he’s going to do some grocery shopping as well, because that’s what he said he would do. Wouldn’t I have grown suspicious if I didn’t know Alex was going to buy a ring? Two hours is a long time to be gone for just groceries. I suppose he’ll come up with some excuse.

When I’m putting away my art supplies, I throw the painting an occasional glance. It occurs twice that I have to add something, so I get the brush from its place and use the already half dried paint to add what I want, and then I clean the brush again. Eventually I decide that I’m not allowed to make any more changes and that the painting is _finished_.

I eat an apple and I fill in a sudoku on my phone. It’s finished in 10 minutes and 17 seconds.

I don’t know how much time passes – not much – until Alex comes home. He seems cheerful, but tries to hide it. My inner narrator can see right through him. Or maybe it’s because I know Alex so well. I’m in the kitchen so I can’t see him when he walks into the living room where my painting is exhibited.

“Wow…” he says in amazement. Raising his voice he says, “John!”

I enter the living room with a grin. Alex is holding two bags with groceries, still wearing his coat. His eyes are fixed on the painting I made. “What do you think?” I ask.

Alex puts the bags on the ground and steps closer to the painting. I think the paint has mostly dried by now. One bag slowly and sadly falls over. “It’s… beautiful!” he says slowly. I know his eyes are glistening despite the fact that they’re still fixed on the painting, unable for me to see.

“I could describe it with so many words, but there’ll never be enough words to describe what this makes me feel,” Alex says, turning to me. His eyes _are_ glistening. He’s almost exploding from amazement. I smile insecurely and he walks over to me and cups my cheeks with his hands.

“There aren’t many things that leave me speechless, but you’ve managed to do exactly that with this painting.” That’s a lot of words for a speechless person, but alright. He moves his hands to the back of my neck and kisses me on the lips.

The rest of the day nothing eventful happens. Alex’s excuse for taking such a long time for grocery shopping? Here it comes:

“You know that coffee shop Peggy works at? Her shift had just ended and she was heading to the grocery store as well, so we went together. It was pure coincidence, because I only stopped by to have frozen coffee. I know you have some weird aversion against those, so I took the opportunity to finally have one again. I haven’t had one in what feels like ages! I knew Peggy works there, but I had forgotten for a moment, until I saw her serving drinks and she said hi but I barely recognised her. Did you know she has a new haircut? It suits her really well. She told me her shift would end in fifteen minutes, so I waited for her. Then we went to the grocery store and you know how easy it is to talk with Peggy, so we got sort of lost in conversation. But we made it home! I mean, I think she did, I haven’t checked. I made it home! _With_ the groceries!”

“Well done, Alex,” I chuckle. “I’m proud of you.”

“And with reason!”

We have pasta, which Alex prepares, for dinner. It’s nice to have a meal cooked by Alex again. I still suffer from the jetlag so I’m pretty tired in the evening and head to bed early. I wake up when Alex joins me a few hours later, and immediately fall asleep again, curled into Alex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The painting John describes is a painting I actually made :)  
> (not on canvas though)  
> Look [here is the link to it](https://chimney-on-the-roof.tumblr.com/post/619853825801666560/inspired-by-tonke-dragts-book-torenhoog-en-mijlen)


	3. I'm not a stalker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a piece of apple stuck between my teeth

I’m sitting on my bed, watching two birds fly and hop around on the chimneys and roofs of the block I can see through the bedroom window. I could try to draw them. I sketch the outline of the roof and the chimneys, but of course when I want to draw the birds, they’re nowhere to be seen.

The sky darkens. The weather hasn’t been exactly sunny today, but now dark clouds hang in the sky like a blanket over the world. The wind makes the trees’ leaves move and rustle. You never hear or see the wind, only the effects it has on the environment around you. What if there is no wind? What if the trees decided to move themselves?

Ah, there are two birds on the roof again. I manage to draw them in three different positions. It’s starting to rain. Alex is in the living room at his desk, working on some stuff for his work. He must notice the rain as well. Or maybe he’s too immersed in his work to notice.

The rain raps gently on the awning of our downstairs neighbours, who have forgotten to fold it. After a while, the rain’s intensity decreases and the clouds turn lighter, almost white. A gust of wind blows in through the open window and I smell the nice scent of rain and feel the brisk air. Not long after, there’s only a slight drizzle and the sky is white with clouds.

I’m not staring out the window all the time, but I sketch and when I don’t know what to draw I glance outside, almost involuntarily and automatically. It’s raining harder again, harder than before. The roof is shining. It’s getting cold and the moment I shiver, Alex walks in.

“Whoa, it’s cold in here,” he says. I look up from my sketchbook and see two birds on one of the chimneys and point them out to Alex.

“Look, there are birds on the roof.”

“I see,” he says. Then he notices the sketchbook in my lap. “Oh, like that. Don’t you want to close the window? You can’t draw with frozen hands.”

“My hands aren’t frozen!” I say slightly offended. “I like hearing the rain and the wind and the birds.”

Alex sighs, probably at my stubbornness. “Then at least wear something warmer.” I shiver again and Alex sits down beside me, putting an arm around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder. I add a bird to the sketch, and notice that my hands are beginning to grow cold. I shake my right hand quickly.

“I told you,” Alex says quietly. I scoff softly.

I don’t want to get up to get a hoodie because Alex is warm, but he leaves me no choice when he lets go of me once I put my sketchbook and pencil away. With a sigh I get up and walk over to the wardrobe to get a hoodie. I only have, like, two or three hoodies and they’re all in the laundry basket, so I get one of Alex’s. It’s true that we did the laundry yesterday, but we didn’t do all of it. We’re not _that_ ambitious.

Alex is flipping through my sketchbook. I sit back down beside him, wearing a red hoodie. “Are you done working?”

He nods, not taking his eyes off the sketches. The time difference with France is still messing with my sleep schedule. It must be around 6 PM there, not a time to be tired, but I still am, even though it’s 12 PM here. I woke up around 3 AM last night, because my internal clock decided that it was time to _do_ things. So I made some tea and read a book, but two hours later I was still wide awake, so I started sketching Alex. He’s looking at those sketches now.

I lay down backwards on the bed to stare at the ceiling. “I hate this jetlag,” I mumble. Alex doesn’t hear me, or he just doesn’t respond.

An ordinary Sunday.

Whoop time for a time jump!

It’s exactly a month until our trip to Yorktown. I still haven’t figured out what’s so special about that place, and I feel like I should know. Whatever. Alex is really excited about the trip, I wonder why… I’m excited too, by the way. But Alex is more excited. He won’t shut up about it. I’m just waiting for the moment he accidently reveals his plans, because I know that’s going to happen. I’m not going to tell you when, though.

Just like the last day I described, it’s raining. Maybe I should say that the last day I described was only three days ago. I’m apparently extremely sensitive for time zone differences, because the jet lag is still haunting me. I don’t wake up in the middle of the night anymore, but getting out of bed is extremely hard and I’m tired and cranky, like, all the time. It was the same when I arrived in France, but I thought my tiredness was just due to the busy schedule and all the exhausting meetings I had to attend. Now I have a lot of free time, and I can’t even bring myself to painting without getting frustrated.

Remember the black paint had run out? I still don’t have new paint, so I tried mixing my blue acrylic paint with black poster paint. I knew it wouldn’t work and it did indeed not work, to my frustration. I should go to an art store and buy some paint, but I don’t have the energy for it. I’ll do it when this jet lag is over. I’m actually relieved that Alex spends entire days at work, because I don’t want to take my frustrations out on him.

Enough ranting. I can hear Alex’s key in the lock, so he’ll be here soon. Oh shit – sorry, shoot – I should’ve done the groceries today. I didn’t. With a sigh I get up from the couch and lock myself in the bedroom before Alex has left the hallway. I plop down on the bed and hear Alex hanging his keys on the key rack and the front door closing.

“I’m home!” he says as always.

“Well done!” I respond out of habit.

He hangs his coat on the coat rack and walks into the living room. He knows I’m having a bad day, so he decides to leave me alone. If I hadn’t locked the bedroom door he would’ve come in to comfort me, but the fact that I’ve locked it means that I want to be alone right now. He understands, and the fact that I responded when he said he’s home indicates that there’s nothing really wrong going on. These are Alex’s thoughts, by the way. That’s a side effect of being narrator.

I stare at the ceiling and I know that Lafayette and Eliza are preparing something. Do I want to know what? I stare at the ceiling for another minute, but I’ve already decided. I’m going to follow them around, hopefully without being noticed.

I put my shoes on and race out the door. Alex raises his eyebrows at me. “I’m gonna buy paint!” I tell him, and rush to the front door. I grab my coat and leave the apartment. I think the lift is faster than the stairs, but waiting for the lift seems like a waste of time, so I sprint down the stairs while putting on my coat. Luckily I don’t fall or stumble. Shoot, I forgot my phone. Whatever.

Finally having reached the main entrance to the building, I remember that it’s raining. For a moment I hesitate, considering going back up for my phone and an umbrella, but decide against it. When I reach the car I hesitate again, having forgotten the keys. Nice going, John. I sigh and go back. I don’t have my wallet either, so the subway isn’t an option.

I do take the lift this time, and fortunately I don’t have to wait long. “I forgot some things,” I say to Alex when I’m in the apartment again.

He chuckles. “Do you want me to come with you?”

No way. “No, I’ll be fine. It’s just some paint.”

I leave the apartment with my phone, wallet, and keys, just in time remembering to take an umbrella with me. The lift is still at the fifth floor so I don’t have to wait for it. The lift goes down, I walk through the rain to the car – unfolding the umbrella for not even a minute in the rain is a little unnecessary – I get in the car and I have no idea what to do next. Starting the car might be a good idea, but where do I need to go? Lafayette and Eliza are _doing something_ , but what and where? Oh yes, I know, the mall. Stupid of me to forget. Did even forget? Or did I just receive this information out of the blue? Anyway, I drive to the mall, because that’s where they are. Nice, that way I can get some paint as well.

Fifteen minutes later I’m at the mall, but I can’t find a parking space. How can the universe be so cruel to me… I find a spot at last and park the car without much trouble. Without _much_ trouble, let’s not focus on that. Now I don’t know why I even brought an umbrella, because the parking lot has a roof. _Nice_. It’s a fucking great day.

At least I’m at the mall and not stuck in a lift or something. My inner narrator tells me Eliza and Lafayette are still in the mall. Maybe they’ve been waiting for me. I wonder what they’re doing.

They’re in some clothing store. They’re not picking out clothes for Alex – although that would make a nice change – or anything else that has to do with the proposal, but they’re _talking_ about it. How do I get close enough to hear them without being noticed? Good question.

Would it be cliché to wear a cap? They do that in films to disguise themselves, so apparently it works, right? I walk into the store, and after a quick look around I see them at the women’s department. How can I casually walk around in the women’s department??

Let’s try. Eliza is looking through the clothes – dresses, while Lafayette looks around pointlessly, deep in conversation. He might notice me. Let’s stay behind him. His face is turned towards the entrance, so I have to walk around him. Here we go.

“Do you think Alex would like this dress?”

“Why does it matter what Alex thinks of that dress?” Lafayette says incredulously.

Eliza shrugs – I think, I can’t see her because I’m ducked behind a clothing rack with yellow T-shirts.

“Eliza,” Lafayette says in a neutral tone, which means as much as ‘I can’t believe you, what the fuck are you doing’. “You’re not telling me you still have feelings for him, are you?”

Eliza squeaks. I imagine she’s turned red. Then she sighs. “He’s going to propose to John, I know. But still…”

WHat? I’m not following it. Eliza says she still has feelings for Alex. How mature. What does she thinks she’s doing?? Wait a minute, is this story getting an antagonist? I never imagined Eliza being the antagonist.

“Eliza, Eliza…” Lafayette sighs. “Feelings are complicated, tell me about it… Sorry, I’m making this about me. Why did you break up with him anyway?”

Tea.

“It was obvious he was bored with me!” Eliza says defensively. “He was going to cheat on me one day or another, so I gave him the chance to not make a scandal out of it. Knowing him, he would never be the one to break up. So I did it.”

It’s quiet for a moment. Alex had told me they broke up because they “weren’t fit for each other”. Which is true, in a way. I wonder if Eliza even told Alex her reasoning for breaking up.

“And now he’s proposing… This is not really the place to be discussing such matters,” Lafayette suddenly changes the subject. “Shall we continue this conversation while enjoying a cup of coffee?”

“Sure.”

Now I have to follow them, great. At least I haven’t been noticed by them. Yet.

I peek over the edge of the clothing rack. There aren’t many other people in this store, so my weird behaviour hasn’t been noticed either.

They walk arm in arm to a Starbucks. This is hard. The halls of the mall are a lot more crowded so I won’t be easily noticed, but that makes it harder for me to keep track of them. When they’ve left the store, I emerge from behind the clothing rack and leave the store as well. It wasn’t actually too hard to get behind them in the store, I didn’t even need a cap, so I hope this won’t be hard either. I have one advantage: they don’t expect seeing me here.

I scan the crowd and surely enough, I see Eliza and Lafayette walking towards the Starbucks. Their arms aren’t linked anymore. They go inside and I walk over to the small coffeehouse. They’re at the counter making their order. I can’t go in now, because in a moment they’ll scan the place for a free spot. I linger outside, occasionally glancing in. I’m glad I have my phone with me so I can pretend to be doing something important on it, instead of standing creepily outside a Starbucks.

They take a seat. I’ll wait until they’ve received their drinks before going inside. The next time I look inside, Lafayette is walking up to the counter to collect the drinks. I take that as my cue to go in, once he sits down with Eliza.

There aren’t many free tables, but – thanks, universe – there is one just close and at the same time far away enough to hear them and not stand out. I order a frozen coffee. Alex thinks I don’t like those, but the truth is that I like them too much for my own good. I wait at the counter. I glance at Lafayette and Eliza, who’ve continued their conversation.

“Jack!” I flinch, but then remember it’s the name I gave to the barista. With a still pounding heart I turn around and see my frozen coffee waiting for me. “Thanks,” I mutter to the barista, and walk over to the table I chose.

“… like, I don’t know, years ago!” Lafayette says.

“More than three years ago,” Eliza says dejectedly. I suppose that’s when Alex and her broke up.

“And you’ve been walking around with these feelings for three years?” Lafayette can’t believe that he hasn’t noticed it before.

Eliza nods slowly, looking Lafayette in the eye. She doesn’t like the way he keeps going on about that, he’s kind of missing the point. She wants him to understand that she feels conflicted about Alex’s proposal to John – to me. She tries to explain, “Look. I’m happy for Alex that he’s found someone better for him. I’m even more happy for John, because wow, he has Alex! Alex loves him! But at the same time…”

“You’re jealous.” Lafayette finishes. He understands. To see the person you love be happy with someone else must be hard. Especially when you’ve tried achieving that same happiness, but failed. And everything’s happening right under your nose. Lafayette understands, because he knows that pang of jealousy when Hercules laughs at someone’s joke. When Hercules has fun with someone. When Hercules’s attention is on someone. Someone who is not Lafayette.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Too much information.

“After the breakup I missed Alex’s company, but being on my own also felt good. I started focusing on myself more, how cliché that may sound, and I discovered that my thoughts would wander to Alex all the time. At first I didn’t pay much attention to it, because hey, we just broke up, it’s only natural that I don’t forget about him straight away.”

Lafayette nods, anticipating what Eliza is going to say next.

“But I kept thinking about him, and missing him. He moved on. He fell in love with John, or maybe he had already fallen for him long before we broke up! I don’t know. They were happy. They _are_ happy. And I felt guilty for wanting them to break up, because they’re perfect for each other and it’s none of my business. I stayed away from them. But then…” Eliza’s thoughts wander to a party Lafayette hosted. She was invited, and so were Alex and John – sorry, me. She had tried to stay away from Alex, because she was afraid of acting weird around him.

“Then I talked to John at one of your parties. He was genuinely nice to me, even though he knew I was Alex’s ex. So I thought, ‘if he isn’t mad at me or something, Alex can’t have said nasty things about me or John wouldn’t be so nice to me’. So I started hoping Alex and I could reconnect, although not in a romantic way.”

“I see.” Lafayette isn’t sure what to say exactly, but Eliza doesn’t mind. She’s happy to have someone listen to her, since she hasn’t told anyone before.

“I started saying yes to going out with friends which involved Alex. John was by his side all the time, but one night Alex and I had our first conversation since the breakup. We talked about a show we used to watch together,” Eliza says with an ironic laugh. “No heavy topics. So I asked him if we could be friends again. He didn’t have to think about it, he just said ‘of course!’, and something about that he didn’t hate me.”

“I see,” Lafayette says again. “So then you became friends?”

“Sort of,” Eliza says slowly, staring into her cup. “I mean, it’s still very awkward between us sometimes. But now I know that he doesn’t hate me. Maybe that makes it harder, because for I while I wanted to hate him, but I couldn’t, you know?”

Lafayette doesn’t know, but he nods anyway.

“So I told myself that he probably hated me, so I could push him away and forget about him. But when it turned out that he doesn’t hate me… It’s really complicated,” she finishes with a sigh. She takes a sip from her coffee, and Lafayette imitates her.

“What are you going to do about it?” Lafayette asks Eliza. He knows that question isn’t really helping, but he can’t think of anything better.

“See, that’s the problem!” Eliza says vigorously. “I can’t do anything about it, it’s all just feelings and thoughts! It’s all in my head!”

“Do you think it’ll help if you talk to Alex about this?”

Eliza takes a moment to consider that. Her initial reaction is that ‘no, she can’t let him know she still loves him’. But after a moment of thought, she realises that it might help. But she isn’t exactly looking forward to it.

“It might,” Eliza says hesitantly.

 _My_ initial reaction is, ‘not on my watch!’, but I understand that Eliza needs it. I think it would be good for her to talk to Alex about this, since she really seems to be struggling with herself. If she asked me – which she won’t, but just _if_ – I’d give her my permission. She doesn’t need my permission, of course. I’d approve. I’d even encourage her. Eliza isn’t a bad person, she’s not an antagonist.

They talk about some other things, but I’m not paying attention anymore. I’ve finished my drink – which was delicious – and have no reason to be here any longer, so I leave. I have to buy some black paint. They don’t notice me leaving the Starbucks.

I buy the paint and other art supplies which I don’t need but are begging at me to be bought. I never leave the art store empty-handed. On my way back to the parking lot I see Lafayette and Eliza walking the opposite way. I hope they don’t notice me, but Eliza makes eye contact and waves. “Hey John!” she says cheerfully. I give her a small smile and an awkward wave and hope to walk on, but Lafayette is already walking in my direction.

“How are you? You look like shit,” he says.

“Thanks. I’m still very jet lagged, but I’m holding up. This is actually the first time since coming home that I leave the apartment.”

“Really?” Eliza asks with a concerned tone. I nod sheepishly.

“I should be going now, so…” I trail off, trying to escape this awkward semi-conversation.

“Of course. It’s nice to see you again, John!”

I give her a smile. Lafayette is thinking about throwing me a welcome home party so that everyone can see me again. I have to let Alex know that I don’t want that.

“Good seeing you again, too.” With that, I walk towards the parking lot. Lafayette voices his idea to Eliza, who disagrees with him. Thanks, Eliza.

On the drive back, I think about all the information that has made its way into my brain. Do I need to do anything with this information? Or is it enough that I’m writing it down? For now, I decide that the last option is the best. I’ll let you do the thinking, reader. If you want.

It’s still raining, harder now. The wiper on the windshield can barely keep up with the amount of water falling from the sky. The parking spot close to the apartment building is occupied, so I have to park the car a block away. I’m glad I took the umbrella with me after all.

I have to wait a while for the lift. When the lift doors open, two young girls walk out. They’re sisters who live one floor below me and Alex. The oldest sister gives me a polite smile, the younger sister doesn’t look at me. I smile back.

“You’ve been out for longer than I expected,” Alex says when I walk into the kitchen where he’s cooking.

“What’re you making?” I ask, avoiding the question.

“Spaghetti,” he says. “Did you find the paint?”

“Yup.” I leave the kitchen to add my new art things to the rest of my things. Can you tell I’m getting tired?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's no longer a piece of apple stuck between my teeth
> 
> Fun fact: I watched Les Misérables today, for the first time in like two years or so. Then later today I was on Tumblr and saw les mis was trending and I was like "oh that's cool, why?" and discovered it's barricade day. Wowowow, and that on the day I decided to watch Les Misérables. CoiNCiDeNcE?? (technically it's not today but yesterday)
> 
> (I'm gonna update it I'm gonna update it, I'm just a bit stuck because of writer's block, yay)


	4. think of a title later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes yes finally a fourth chapter, this was sooo hard to write so I'm gonna make the next chapters shorter  
> Enjoy!

We had spaghetti yesterday. Alex is a good cook, actually. It has finally stopped raining, but it’s still cloudy. I feel like shit.

Alex has opened the curtains and told me to get up. He’s now in the kitchen preparing breakfast and I’m still in bed. The bed is warm, but I’m still cold.

What day is it? Right, Thursday. Alex works from home on Thursdays. I don’t know whether I should be glad or upset that Alex is home today, but we’ll see.

Speaking of the devil.

“John? You up yet?” Alex yells from the kitchen.

“No,” I try to yell back, but my voice is too hoarse, which causes me to cough. “No,” I try to say again, but now my voice is completely gone. And my throat hurts. “Damnit,” I say inaudibly.

I throw the blanket off, which takes a lot more energy than I expected because my arms are sore from… from what? I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, shivering and getting goose bumps from the loss of warmth. I put on a mismatched pair of socks and a clean hoodie – one of my own because I did the laundry a few days ago – over my pyjamas. Then I walk over to the kitchen where Alex is sipping his coffee and reading something on his phone, probably the newspaper.

“Morning,” he says.

I try to say good morning as well, which results in another coughing fit. Alex looks up at me with raised eyebrows.

“You okay?” he asks while I get a glass of water. I shake my head in response and drink some water. I clear my throat and say “Aaaa” to test if my voice works again. It does, although it’s hoarse. Alex smiles a little at the stupid voice test.

“I feel like shit,” I say.

“Are you sick? Come here, let me feel your forehead.” Alex stands up from his chair and I take a step towards him. He feels my forehead with a hand, and his eyebrows immediately shoot upwards.

“Yeah, I think you’re sick.”

“Mh,” I say.

Alex gives me a sympathetic smile. “Good thing I work home today!”

“Yeah,” I say, and sit down on the chair opposite Alex’s.

“I made you coffee, but maybe you would like some tea?”

I nod, not trusting my throat. I hope the tea will ease the pain. Alex takes a sip from my coffee and starts boiling water for the tea, while I rest my head on my arms on the table. This day is already exhausting. At least it’s not cold anymore. On the contrary, it’s too warm. I sit upright again when Alex hands me the camomile tea. “Thanks,” I say, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Alex sits down opposite me and continues reading the digital newspaper while drinking from two mugs of coffee. The tea smells nice and I carefully take a sip, making sure it won’t burn my tongue. It’s delicious.

I don’t know what to do once I’ve finished the tea. Alex is still reading or doing something else on his phone, and I don’t really feel like moving, so I just watch him. He frowns a little at his phone and starts typing quickly. His hair is down. If he were to go to work, he’d tie it back. In my opinion he looks better with his hair down.

He catches me looking at him and smiles softly. “What’s up?” he asks.

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

Alex’s mouth twitches a little, then he says, “Let’s go to the couch. It’s more comfortable than these chairs and I can hold you.” I nod, and get up. Too quickly. My head starts spinning and my vision starts turning black. “Alex…”

I blindly reach for the table in an attempt to keep myself on my feet. The ground feels unstable and I can’t reach the table. I feel like I’m going to throw up. I take a step towards where I think Alex is. “Alex!”

“John! What’s going on?” He sounds worried, which isn’t illogical. He places his hands on my shoulders and guides me back to my chair. “Sit down, bend over,” he commands. I do as I’m told and as quickly as the blackness took over my vision, I can see properly again. I sit up. Alex is kneeled on the ground in front of me. “You’re very pale,” he says. “Are you feeling better?”

I nod. “Relatively.” Alex lets out a breath.

“You think you can make it to the couch?”

I shrug. Alex stands up, and I carefully do too. My head starts spinning again and I hold on to Alex’s shoulder. He gives me a worried look, but doesn’t say anything. He guides me the few steps to the couch in the living room and I sink down in the cushions. He sits down next to me and I lean into him, resting my head on his shoulder. Alex grabs his laptop and opens it to start his work. I watch his fingers fly over the keys as he types, without registering what he’s actually typing.

I must have fallen asleep, because I wake up when Alex stretches his arms and back. I yawn and lean back in the cushions of the couch instead of Alex’s side.

“Sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Mh-mh,” I say, closing my eyes again.

“How are you feeling?”

I have a headache and I feel sick. But I don’t feel like saying that, so I simply say, “Bad.”

I feel Alex’s cold hand on my forehead and I suddenly know something about the plot of this story. Hercules gets an e-mail that the planes won’t fly around the date that we were going to go to Yorktown, due to bad weather. I wonder how the airports know that already, but then I read the date of the e-mail and it’s the day before our departure. In the present I hear Alex saying that I feel warmer than I did this morning. I ask what time it is and Alex answers but I can’t hear him, because the future Alex I’m seeing in my head is at the airport with me. He is on the phone with Hercules, who informs him that the planes aren’t flying. I wonder why we’re even at the airport, because it’s been on the news and the screens in the airport all say that the planes won’t fly. Should I ask Alex? Or tell present Alex? What would I tell him – “Hey, have you thought about the possibility that there may be a storm?”

“What?” Alex asks confused.

I open my eyes and return his confused look. “What?” I echo. “What time is it? I didn’t hear you.”

Alex automatically glances at the clock, although he just told me the time. “It’s twelve.” He searches my face. “What did you say about a storm?”

I stare at Alex. Did I actually say that out loud?

“I was just thinking. What if there’s a storm when we go to Yorktown and the planes don’t fly?”

Alex stares back. “Why were you thinking about that?” he says finally. “No, wait, okay,” he corrects himself. “Then we’ll just stay home, okay? No big deal. We could go another time. But the chance is very small.”

“Sure.” I realise that I should sound more reassured, but I don’t really care.

After this conversation nothing interesting happens. Alex just keeps typing and doing his work, whatever that is, and I am bored and occasionally fall asleep. By the way, Eliza and Lafayette are having another conversation right now about Eliza’s love for Alex. She might be telling Lafayette that she’s found someone else. I’m not sure about the details, but this is important to the plot so I thought I’d mention it.

I wake up again. Alex is softly smiling at me. He’s the one who woke me up. I’m sitting in a rather uncomfortable position, so now my neck hurts.

“Do you want to eat something now?” Alex asks. I don’t know, I just woke up.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom first,” I say with a voice that is weaker than I expected it to be. My eyes feel puffy so I rub them with the palms of my hands and slowly get up. Everything hurts. Alex watches me with concern and helps me when I’m fully standing, swaying on my feet. I close my eyes for a moment because my vision begins to blacken.

The next moment I’m on the couch again. I must’ve passed out. Alex hands me a glass of water. My muscles protest as I sit up and take a few sips. I swipe some sweat away from my forehead. The water is nice and cool, but I feel really warm.

“Can you help me take this thing off?” I ask Alex and he helps me pull the hoodie over my head. It’s immediately relieving. Alex goes to the kitchen to make me some food, and I stare at his laptop on the arm rest of the couch. Alex comes back with some toast. I take a bite, but not more than that.

“Maybe it’s better if you go to bed,” Alex suggests. I nod, and he helps me to the bedroom without any troubles. The sheets are cold and I shiver. It’s cold again. Alex tucks me in and goes to get his laptop. I stare at the ceiling. It’s white. Alex comes backs and sits on the bed with his laptop on his lap next to where I’m lying. I can’t stop shivering. It’s like the hiccups – I shiver and then I don’t and think it’s over, but then I shiver again. It’s quite exhausting.

I have to be somewhere. I sit up. Alex isn’t on the bed anymore.

“Alex?” I call. He hurries in, “I was only in the kitchen, what’s up?”

I stare at him. He searches my face.

“Are you really, actually awake?” he asks.

“Yeah… When wasn’t I?”

“You don’t remember?”

I shake my head in confusion. Alex tells me that I woke up a few minutes ago talking about how Eliza still loves him. I freeze, but he thinks it’s funny.

More unimportant things happen. I feel sick, blah, blah. At the end of the day I’ve eaten a whole slice of bread and a few parts of an apple. I’m also sick of lying in bed, so I move around a bit. At eleven o’clock Alex says he’s going to bed. We’re both sitting on the couch in the same positions as earlier today, my head on Alex’s shoulder. We’re watching TV but I can’t focus on it. I don’t want Alex to go to bed yet so I whine a little and wrap my arm around him to keep him here on the couch with me. He chuckles and leans into me, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“You still feel warm, but not as warm as this morning,” he mutters. Before I can respond, Alex’s phone rings. He can just reach it. “It’s Eliza,” he says in surprise. “I’d better answer it somewhere else, sorry,” he says and starts getting up. I reluctantly let him go. I already know why Eliza’s calling him, but it would be weird if they knew that I know she’s making reservations for a restaurant in Yorktown. It’s not like that reservation’s going to be of any use anyway, because _we’re not going to Yorktown_.

I hear Alex’s voice from the hallway and I change channels to the news. Is it coincidence that they’re talking about hurricanes? Alex comes back after a minute. I don’t bother asking why Eliza called. He glances at the TV, but doesn’t deem it interesting enough. He ruffles my hair and says, “Don’t stay up too late,” before going to our bedroom. I watch TV for a few more minutes but notice that I’m starting to doze off, so I turn the TV off. Now I only have to gather the courage to stand up and walk to the bedroom. I don’t really want to stand up, so I lay down on the couch instead. Before falling asleep, I think about why it matters who Eliza loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may not seem like it but I actually have a plan what's going to happen  
> (tbh I've written better things than this fic but I had this idea and needed to write it down, I don't like my writing in this which makes it hard to continue)  
> Pleeeeeease comment <3


	5. things happen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A really short chapter this time with a lot of questions :)

Who’s in charge of this story? I’m the narrator, sure, but someone _made_ me the narrator, right? And who’s giving me information about the plot of the story? Who decides _what the plot of the story is_? I think that’s the characters in the story. I mean, these are my real friends I’m talking about. They aren’t controlled by some writer, right?

We know I’m the narrator. That’s one thing I know. And those weird visions I have about the plot… I don’t know how trustworthy they are, seeing as the plot changes from time to time. That’s because we, the “characters” in the story, make our own decisions.

Sorry if I’m making this too complicated. That’s just what it is. It’s complicated for me too. Let’s get back to the “story”.

I’m still sick. Alex is at work, trusting me to be okay. I’m painting at the desk by the window again, this time it’s something abstract. I’m just putting some paint on the canvas and hope it has some kind of composition. The colours are bright, but I mix some on the canvas so that it’s a gross shade of brown. I like heavy light-dark contrasts in art.

Did you know that I bought the wrong black paint? It’s actually grey, but I hope it won’t matter. I’m not going to use it in this artwork anyway.

I have to go back to work after the weekend, that is unless I’m still sick then. I think I’ll be better then. I’m feeling better now.

Hercules calls me. I pick up.

“Hey Hercules,” I say.

“Hi! How are you doing John?”

“Good, good. Just painting, you know.”

“Good to hear. Hey, what I called you for…” He’s silent for a moment. I genuinely wonder why he’s calling me. “There’s something…” He trails off again.

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

“Yeah, yeah! It’s not about me,” he reassures me. I continue painting. Hercules is always nervous on the phone.

“It’s just… you know Lafayette likes handwritten letters?” Realisation dawns on me. Lafayette and Hercules… I can’t help the grin that’s spreading over my face. “I didn’t know that,” I answer, “But sure, go on?” I put my brush down to cover my mouth. It’s really inappropriate to let him hear my squealing.

“Well, I want to write him a letter for when he’s in France-” Wait, when is Lafayette going to France? “And I thought it’d be nice to say something in French, and since my French isn’t very good and yours is…”

“Oh, yes! Of course,” I answer his unspoken question. I hear Hercules sigh in relief. “But, why is he going back to France?”

“He didn’t tell you?”

“No?...”

Hercules is quiet for a few seconds. “I think he’ll let you know,” he answers with a hint of uncertainty. “I’ll ask him to.”

From the corner of my eyes it looks like the lamp hanging above the kitchen table is swinging. I turn my head towards it and I notice – and feel – how dizzy I am. “Wait,” I tell Hercules in a voice that probably sounds weak. I sit down. “I’ll call you back.” I hang up.

Like yesterday, I bend over until my head is between my knees. I don’t feel sick or anything, just dizzy. After a minute or two I sit up again, but the room is still spinning. Should I call Alex? He told me to call if anything went wrong.

I call Alex, but the person who answers isn’t Alex. “Hello John!” a female voice says.

“Angelica?” I must have tapped the wrong contact.

“Yes, are you okay? You sound surprised.” She’s nice.

“Yeah…”

After a silence she asks, “John? Are you still there?”

“Yes, sorry, I am,” I say quickly, mentally cursing myself for zoning out. “I, erm… Actually, I wanted to call Alex but I must’ve accidently called you…”

“Oh, like that,” she says. She sounds genuinely understanding. “Well, I’d better let you call him then.”

“Yeah, sure…”

“Bye, see you later!”

“Bye Angelica.” I wait for her to end the call. There are two beeps and then silence. I stare at my painting with my phone still to my ear. I’ve put too much paint on the canvas and the paint is actually dripping down. It’s not what I was going for, but it looks kind of cool. The room has stopped spinning, I put my phone on the desk.

Did I get dizzy because I’m sick, or was it some weird narrator stuff? I haven’t had any information about the plot all day, and it’s already two o’clock. It’s strange. Am I still the narrator? Or did someone else become the narrator? Is it because I’m sick?

…Am I not good enough?


	6. some answers, I hope

Hey, guess what, I am still the narrator, even though I haven’t had any updates on the plot. I think I know most of what’s going to happen anyway.

It’s been a few days since I’ve last written. I’m feeling better, but Alex thought it’d be good for me to stay home. It’s Tuesday, by the way. Today is going to be fun.

I’m in the coffee shop Peggy works at. Alex was right, her new haircut looks really good. Lafayette and Hercules are going to come here later today, Peggy told me. She should’ve kept it a secret, so of course she told me. Laf and Herc should’ve known better than to tell Peggy about their date.

By the way, Lafayette told me and Alex yesterday, or maybe the day before that, that he’s going to France, surprise surprise. He’s leaving very soon, because there are some family troubles, I believe. I didn’t ask for details. He doesn’t know how long he’ll be staying there, but for at least two weeks.

Anyway. I’m drinking this frozen coffee, which is delicious. Peggy knows that Alex and I lie to each other about having frozen coffee. She thinks it’s funny. Did I mention that this frozen coffee is delicious?

After about fifteen minutes later I’ve finished my drink. I walk to the counter to order another one, when Lafayette walks into the coffee shop. He hasn’t seen me yet. Peggy shoots me a warning look, giving me permission to hide behind the counter. Maybe it’s not actually allowed, but nobody’s going to check anyway.

I carefully look over the counter. The only other persons in the coffee shop are two girls, probably students. They’re sitting at the same table and are talking to each other in hushed voices. They won’t notice anything weird going on, like me hiding behind the counter or me handing them their scones about fifteen minutes later to eavesdrop on Herc and Laf which I’ll tell you about soon.

Peggy thinks it’s too risky for me to give Laf his drink, so I stay behind the counter while she brings him his order. I stand up, when Hercules suddenly comes in. I freeze, thinking really quickly. What do I do? Let’s play it cool. What does Peggy always say?

Hercules takes a look around and notices Lafayette at a table. Then he looks at the counter and sees me. I’m pretending to clean it, avoiding eye contact.

“John?” Hercules says in surprise. I look up and give him a big smile. “Hercules! Hi!”

“Since when do you work here?” I love how confused he is. I shrug, and ask him what he wants to order. Too confused to ask more questions, he makes his order.

“Okay, coming right up!”

Hercules hesitates and gives me a confused smile and walks over to the table Lafayette is sitting at. Peggy is about to say something to Hercules, but looks in my direction first and sees me behind the counter. I give her a cheerful wave, and I lower myself behind the counter, out of view. A few seconds later she joins me.

“What are you doing?”

I chuckle. “Hercules saw me, so I played barista! He wants cinnamon tea and a bagel with cream cheese.”

Peggy gives me a disapproving look, but she smiles right after. “Did he pay for his order?”

Oh. “Uh, no.” She rolls her eyes.

“Erm, Peggy, let’s pretend I wasn’t even here at all,” I say hesitantly. She raises her eyebrows, but says, “Alright.”

She starts preparing Hercules’ order. I’m careful to remain out of sight.

One of the girls comes to the counter to order a couple of scones. She doesn’t notice me.

Peggy brings Hercules’ order to his table and tells him that she forgot to ask him to pay. She doesn’t even mention me, and when Hercules acts confused, she apologises again. Peggy is a great actress.

When Peggy comes back to the counter, she’s holding an apron. She hands it to me. “Here, tie this on.”

She gets two scones from the display and puts them on small plates. I ask her if I can bring it to the girls and she raises her eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“Yes! I want to know how Laf and Herc are doing.”

Peggy chuckles and shakes her head. “Alright. Don’t act too weird.”

I feign offence. “Me, weird?”

She gives me a push. “Just give them their scones and say something like, here are your scones. And don’t forget to tell me what Laf and Herc are talking about,” she adds with a wink. I take the tray and walk over to the girls.

“…she’s just so upset, Herc,” I hear Lafayette say with a sigh. Why is he talking about sad stuff on a date? “I think I’m the only person she has, how you say, confided in about Alex, and now I’m off to France…” Oh. He’s talking about Eliza. Wasn’t that whole thing over? Didn’t she tell him she’d found someone else?

Hercules sigh sympathetically. That’s what it sounds like anyway. “And why are you telling me about this? I mean, does Eliza know you’re telling me about her problems?”

“Oh! No,” Lafayette says quickly. “I’m asking you to talk to her while I’m away.” It sounds more like a question. I’m at the girls’ table now and handing them their scones, trying to hear what my friends are saying behind me. The girls give me a weird look so I’m probably doing something wrong, so I say sorry. I don’t even know what I’m apologising for, but I don’t mind. I turn away before I can make more mistakes. I slowly walk back to Peggy, who’s watching me with concern, to stay within hearing distance of Herc and Laf for as long as possible. Hopefully without being creepy.

“I can give it a try, of course…” Hercules says slowly. “But why would I if she has told you she’s doing fine?” I can just barely hear him talk anymore, so I start rearranging the chairs around a nearby table to hear their conversation.

“That’s also why I’m asking you. She told me she’s fine, yes, but it’s obvious she isn’t. She won’t talk to me anymore, so that’s where you come in.” I don’t have to turn around to know what the triumphant grin on his face that’s undoubtedly there looks like. Peggy’s motioning for me to come back to the counter.

“Alright, I can do that,” is the last thing I hear Hercules say.

“How did I do?” I ask Peggy with a teasing smile. She looks like she’s about to murder me, but I know she won’t. The worst thing she’ll do is restrict me from drinking iced coffee.

“John,” she says with a sigh. “Get down.” I obey her and sit down on the floor behind the counter. She has a hand on her hip. “Did you know it’s a bit rude to slam that tray on the girls’ table without a word? You had _one_ job…”

I did, in fact, not realise that that’s what I did. “No, I had multiple jobs. In fact, this isn’t even my job…” Peggy’s glaring at me at this point.

“Okay, alright, I’m sorry.”

Peggy tilts her head back in frustration. “Yeah, say that to the girls. Anyway.” Her posture changes and she is now in her official gossip-mode. “What were the boys talking about?”

“About that,” I say slowly. Am I allowed to tell her about what her sister’s up to? “I’m not sure this is a typical date. They were talking about Eliza…” I look up at Peggy, whose expression changes into an understanding one. She bites her lip and shoots a glance towards where Herc and Laf are probably sitting. She kneels down beside me.

“You know about her crush on Alex, right?” I nod, wondering how she knows that I know. Peggy hesitates and says, “I overheard her on the phone with Laf one night.” She gives me a measuring look, at least that’s what it looks like to me, and continues, “I’m sorry John, that you know about it. It can’t be easy to hear that your boyfriend’s ex still loves him.” She gives a humourless chuckle. I shrug.

“Our relationship is pretty solid, as you know,” I tell her. Peggy smiles, despite her attempt to hide it. “What were they talking about, by the way? Laf and Herc?”

“Oh, yeah, Laf is going to France and wants Herc to talk to Eliza, since she doesn’t trust Laf anymore, or something like that.” Peggy doesn’t look satisfied with that answer, but quickly stands up. “There’s a customer coming,” she whispers to me. I think it’s an instinct that comes with the job that she just knows that out of the blue, because the door opens after Peggy is already on her feet, ready to greet the new customer.

An unfamiliar voice orders and pays for their coffee. Peggy prepares the coffee and winks at me before walking from behind the counter to bring the person their coffee. She’s in her gossip-mode, set to hear whatever Laf and Herc are talking about. A minute later she’s back and crouches down beside me with a bright smile.

“That,” she pauses for the dramatic effect, “is what a date should look like.” I raise my eyebrows, but she nudges me in the side. “Look for yourself!”

I peek over the counter and immediately turn back to Peggy. “They’re kissing,” I hiss. Peggy clasps her hands together. “Yes!” she exclaims, somehow in a hushed voice. “When I walked by, they were holding hands and getting lost in each other’s eyes,” she says excitedly. I chuckle, a bit disappointed that there’s no news on Eliza, but still happy for my friends.

“Well, I should go, I suppose,” I say to Peggy. She pouts. “Alright. But let me make you another iced coffee first,” she says. I chuckle and look away. Peggy knows me too well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I won't spoil anything but... pay attention to Peggy (I've said too much already)
> 
> It might be a while before I post another chapter because it's summer break and I'm going to France for about two or three weeks :)
> 
> Please let me know what you're thinking!! I love receiving comments <3


	7. A day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise surprise: I did not forget about this! I know I said I would be gone for like two or three weeks, which turned out to be _four months_. I'm sorry. School is being really demotivating. Anyway, a new chapter!!

Alex knows something’s up. Luckily he doesn’t suspect a thing about my narrative skills, if that’s a thing. No, Eliza is being weird, which is feeding into Alex’s suspicions. Did I mention they’re co-workers? So, like, they see each other pretty much every day. I have no idea how Eliza’s holding up, I can’t feel her mood, unlike Alex’s and Laf’s. Maybe she just isn’t all that relevant to this story.

Wow, that sounds rude, sorry. Anyway.

I went back to work today and it was so boring. I have a typical desk job which usually gives me enough satisfaction, plus it pays well. But I was so bored today, mainly because I knew Alex was feeling off. I called him, and he told me Eliza has been giving him weird looks. He didn’t even wonder why I called him, since we only ever call each other in case of emergencies and when one of us goes to the store and forgets to take the grocery list.

I’m not much of a coffee drinker – except for iced coffee – but the coffee Peggy made for me today wasn’t that bad. Yes, I went to the coffee shop again, after work. With Alex this time, so I had no choice but to drink something else than iced coffee. Peggy said it was nice to see both of us together for a change, and winked.

The weather is really nice, by the way. When I went outside to take the trash out, I noticed the way the sky’s colour changed from orange to pink. When I was back in the apartment, I looked through the window and saw the sky slowly turning purple and then darker blue. If I could capture that change of colour in a painting, I would.

Alex is just as amazing as ever. It’s a little disappointing that he can’t surprise me anymore, because I’m sure I would’ve appreciated the random pie that awaited me in the apartment when we came home even more. My inner narrator didn’t tell me how it tasted beforehand, so that was a treat. It was delicious. This reminds me of the time Alex baked a cake for me when we just started dating and… let’s say it had a nice colour. I won’t comment on the taste, but the smell wasn’t good. I appreciated the gesture, anyway.

Alex comes into the bedroom where I’m writing this down. From now on I’ll be ‘writing’ this in my head so I can physically write it down later. Don’t ask me how I do it – it works.

“What’re you doing?” Alex asks.

I shrug and show him the online card game on my laptop. “Just some game.”

Alex chuckles and sits down next to me on the bed, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. I lean into it and suddenly catch a movement from the corner of my eye. I look out the window and gasp.

“There’s a frickin spider,” I say in a deep voice. Just in front of the window there’s a spider seemingly floating in the air, moving its legs.

Alex gasps too and jumps off the bed, practically running over to the window.

“Hey little dude,” he says softly to the spider. “Are you making a web?”

To me he says, “The spider’s outside.”

We both aren’t scared of spiders, as long as they stay outside. They’re fascinating, really. I think Alex is watching the spider make a web.

So, to conclude the day, today wasn’t very entertaining. Just an ordinary day. Which was nice. I’m aware that this chapter is quite short, but hey, who cares? I don’t. Well, a little. But I prefer not to let that bother me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment!! <3


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